


Golden

by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat



Category: Lumberjanes
Genre: Auras, F/F, Introspection, MY LAPTOP'S BACK BABYYYY, NO MORE WRITING ON SCHOOL COMPUTERS FOR ME, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22922626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat/pseuds/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat
Summary: Molly is Golden.
Relationships: Mal/Molly (Lumberjanes)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Golden

**Author's Note:**

> i'm frickinnn... writing for the lumberjanes fandom again.... y'all can't get rid of me.

_She’s golden._

That’s the first thing Mal thought when she saw Molly for the first time. 

You’d think it would have been something more romantic. Something about love, or about hope for the future, or about wanting to spend that future together. Though to be fair, it was only first impressions at that point, and Mal wasn’t quite fully in love yet. 

(She was only maybe halfway there.)

And Molly just looked… golden. 

She was standing in the center of a crowd of people, and she was the first one Mal saw after stepping out of the taxi she’d taken up to camp. Mal doesn’t know why her eyes landed on her. She has her guesses. It could have been fate. It could have been Molly’s divine beauty. 

Somewhere, hidden in the back of her head, Mal knows why she was drawn to Molly. 

It’s because in that crowd of people, a couple hundred of them, families and friends and counselors and kids all talking and laughing and running, Molly was standing all alone. 

And she was golden. Glowing, almost. It was like an aura around her, soft and warm and radiant, and it drew Mal in. Mal’s mom used to talk about being able to see auras around people. She tried to teach Mal how to, but Mal never believed in that sort of thing. Her mom would take her somewhere, have her look around a parking lot, or a shopping mall.  
  
“Do you see him?” She’d say, pointing at a man walking by. “Can you tell me what his aura is?”

Mal would shake her head. She didn’t see auras. She always thought they were made up, probably by occultists, or TV, or professional palm-readers trying to make an extra couple bucks to pay their rent. 

She thought they were made up, until she saw Molly, who had the most prominent aura she’d ever seen, and then Mal thought that maybe, just maybe, her mom was onto something. 

Molly wasn’t the sun - the sun is harsh, and burning. If you look straight at the sun you can never look again. If you tried to touch the sun you’d be killed before even raising a finger. To compare Molly to the sun would be crude and inaccurate. 

Molly wasn’t sun. She was summer. 

She was the forest warmed by the bright light above, cooled by a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves nearby. When she laughed you could hear the sound of the gentle brook flowing beneath it, the way it tumbled over stones, almost childishly, forming new paths that it had never traveled before, but oh so desperately wanted to explore. 

Molly was the dandelion, grinning and yellow in the middle of a grassy green clearing, a flower treasured by children for its kindness and treasured by healers for its usefulness, but oftentimes scorned by adults for no discernible reason. 

Molly was the gentle sun’s rays hitting the forest in the early morning, nudging the diurnal woodland creatures to rise, hinting to the nocturnal ones to sleep. Molly was warm and bright and glowing.

She was golden. 

And Mal was chasing after her, because she could never get enough. 

Mal wasn’t golden. Not that she could tell, at least. She didn’t glow like Molly. Mal was a different sort of kind, one that wasn’t as prominent and shining. That’s what she thought. 

Of course, Molly said otherwise. 

“You’re silver,” Molly said one day, as they were hiking with the rest of Roanoke cabin.  
  


“What do you mean?”  
  


“You glow,” said Molly. “Don’t you see it? It’s in the way you hold yourself, the way you smile, the way you dance and sing and make music with everything you do. You shine silver, a soft kind of silver, I think. I always thought you knew.” 

Molly didn’t elaborate. She blushed, probably thinking she’d said something odd, or just talked too much. Mal was pretty good at reading Molly, by now. They spent all of their time together - it was hard to not be good at reading Molly. That sort of half-frown she got when she was thinking, the playful smile she had whenever Mal explained one of her plans, the laugh she had, so loud and full and beautiful, whenever someone (although mostly Mal) told an especially good joke. 

“Well,” said Mal, trying to keep the conversation going. “If I’m silver, you’re golden.” 

“Golden?” She laughed. “Pfft.”

  
“It’s true,” Mal said. “It’s in everything about you.” 

  
“I’m not golden.” 

“ _I’m_ not silver.”  
  


“Hm. Touché.”

They didn’t talk about it, after that. But they both looked for it in each other, and it was all they could see. 

_Golden._

Molly was _golden_. 

And she thought that Mal was silver. 

**Author's Note:**

> bye

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Golden [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002452) by [two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat/pseuds/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat)




End file.
